


36. Submission

by howelleheir



Series: DS9 100 Theme Challenge [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, Dom/sub Undertones, Fingerfucking, Frottage, M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Role Reversal, Self-Lubrication, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 05:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15236679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelleheir/pseuds/howelleheir
Summary: Weyoun takes the reins.





	36. Submission

“Lie back.”

A smile teased at the corners of Dukat's lips, as if he didn't expect to hear such authority in Weyoun's voice. Well, then, it was time for a reminder that Weyoun had been commanding fleets since before Dukat's ancestors had ever left their world, and there were consequences to disobeying his orders.

“I told you to lie back, now do it,” he said, marking each word with the sort of increasing emphasis he normally reserved for an interrogation.

“Alright,” Dukat acquiesced, but the smirk remained behind. That was fine. He wouldn't have it for long. “I'm not used to you being so...assertive.”

Weyoun laughed softly. “Normally, I don't have to be, but with  _ you…” _

_ “Oh…” _ Dukat chided, reaching up to run a finger down Weyoun's side and across his thigh.

Weyoun shot him an icy look before he could continue.

“Hold onto the headboard,” he said. “Don't let go until I tell you otherwise.”

The conflict was visible on Dukat's face. He didn't like being ordered around, but he wanted to see where this was headed. Curiosity won out, and he raised his hands and gripped the top of the low headboard, his eyes following Weyoun closely as he settled in between his bent knees.

“Stay relaxed,” said Weyoun, and from the trepidation in his expression, he knew  _ exactly _ what Weyoun had meant by that, and he wasn't happy about it.

“For how long?” he asked. “You  _ can't  _ expect--”

Weyoun tilted his head, mouth tight. “I don't believe I was unclear. If you want this to continue, you will be quiet and do exactly as I say. Now…”

Weyoun started easy, just sliding his palms over Dukat's ribs, trailing along where the armor of his back faded into more delicate flesh, then his waist, then circling the peak of each hipbone with his thumbs, down his thighs to the knee, and then back up along the same path, and down again, moving ever so slightly inward on each slow pass, until his hands met over the center ridge, darkened with arousal, and followed it down his chest and belly. Dukat's breath had quickened somewhat by the time Weyoun reached the point where it split in two and circled his vent.

_ Oh dear. _ If he was having trouble this early in the game, he was in for an unpleasant night. Weyoun showed a little mercy and went back to rubbing his thighs for a moment, until Dukat's breathing had slowed. As soon as it didn't feel  _ unfair, _ he teased a finger between the two halves of the ridge, spreading slick fluid over it without ever  _ quite _ dipping inside. He traced it in lazy circles, watching as Dukat fought against the physiological inevitability of eversion. He could hold out against this -- it may not have been comfortable, but the instinct was easily mastered at this stage.

_ Easy _ wasn't what Weyoun was going for. He shifted onto his stomach, wrapping an arm underneath each of Dukat's thighs. He watched Dukat's grip on the headboard tighten and a tendon in his jaw snap taut as he brushed his lips against him with a slight exhale of warm breath.

He began on the outside of the ridge, following its curve with his tongue up one side and then the other, then tracing the thin, shallow lines that separated each scale, then working to the inside, teasing at the boundary between the ridge and the smoother, more delicate flesh it protected.

The moment it swelled beneath his mouth, he pulled back sharply. “Ah-” he warned, pressing a palm over it and squeezing, just a little too rough to be pleasant. He suppressed a smile at the strangled, frustrated noise that spilled from Dukat's lips. “Not yet.”

Weyoun sat up again, relaxing his grip into a gentler, rhythmic pressure to soothe out the building tension that had threatened to ruin their game over several long, silent minutes.

“That's better,” he murmured as he felt Dukat's muscles slacken. He much preferred positive reinforcement to taking a firm hand. “I knew you could keep yourself under control. It won't be much longer...just stay relaxed...just like that…”

Weyoun began to move again so slowly, in sync with Dukat's measured breaths, that he seemed to barely notice when he took advantage of his almost-meditative state to slide two fingers into him, a low sigh the only indication that he felt anything at all, until Weyoun hooked them upward, dragging them along the underside of his cock.  _ Then _ his eyes snapped open, his hips jerked up involuntarily, and his mouth fell open in a pained groan.

The placement of Weyoun's hand made it impossible for him to evert, but the immense pressure that bloomed inside him made it clear that the physical restraint was the only thing keeping him compliant.

Weyoun stilled again, pressing the pads of his fingers firmly upward, putting enough resistance against the two tightly knotted muscles that ran along the either side of the anterior wall that they were forced to yield.

It became a steady cycle -- fucking into him, circling the head of his cock, until he couldn't hold still, until his body clenched and his breath hitched and stuttered. Then pushing him back from the brink. Then again, and again, and again in a hypnotic rhythm.

Dukat was nearly sobbing by the time Weyoun had withdrawn. His hands had slipped down from the headboard, grasping at fistfuls of the sheets -- technically a violation of the orders he'd been given, but he'd shown so much more discipline than Weyoun had expected that he chose to overlook it.

“Please,” he gasped as Weyoun moved to straddle his hips, his voice full of trembling desperation.

Laughing, Weyoun whispered, “Not yet,” and settled against him, aligning himself with the swell of Dukat's vent and grinding mercilessly against the ridge. However pleasant the friction felt, and however much sadistic joy he got out of teasing him, it was also a practical consideration -- after forcing him to hold back for so long, when he eventually allowed Dukat to fuck him, there would be no preparation, no time to acclimate, but with each roll of his hips, he spread a little more of Dukat's slickness over himself, and that would ease the way.

Finally, he leaned forward, weight in his hands, pressed a soothing kiss to the pointed ridge below Dukat's ear, and took a single deep breath.

“Now.”

Almost before he'd finished the word, Dukat had filled him, his former control completely shattered as his hands flew to Weyoun's hips, pulling him down to take him in completely.

Weyoun bit down on the side of his neck and buried a low cry there. He had been so focused on building Dukat's need, that he hadn't felt his own growing alongside it, but now he was acutely aware of it, a searing tension in his belly, winding tighter and tighter every time he let his hips fall down against Dukat's, threatening to snap at the slightest provocation.

His body gave a little flutter, a brief warning that he was close. Normally, he would slow down, try to hold back, to savor the feeling of being stretched, to draw out the singularly euphoric experience of being fucked for as long as he could, but that wasn't an option this time -- not with the noises Dukat was making, deep, hollow, and focused, his thighs tensing, his fingers gripping at whatever flesh he could reach.

Instead, he hauled himself upright, to an angle that put gravity and friction on his side, and let the erratic fluttering build.

Even as his climax washed over him, he had to smile in self-satisfaction; he could hear Dukat, visual creature that he was, gasping at the sight -- his lover, back arched and flushing, taking his cock to the root and coming all around him -- and a second later, there was a deep, thrumming pulse of heat spreading from Dukat into him.

Weyoun fell forward, unsteady legs no longer able to hold his weight, and only half-voluntarily squeezed his thighs tight around Dukat as they both took a few ragged, trembling breaths. He kissed him, deep and slow, until the delirium faded and the world finally came back into focus.

“You did so well,” he said, brushing Dukat's hair back from his face. And then, winding it around his fingers and pulling, “Next time, I'll just have to make it more challenging.”

  
  



End file.
